


Discovery and Mayhem

by hannahrhen



Series: Ice and Dust and Light [11]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gentle Sex, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Morning Sex, Mpreg, happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is bedded on a quiet morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discovery and Mayhem

**Author's Note:**

> So, seven months later, an epilogue to [Ice and Dust and Light](http://archiveofourown.org/series/19686). Go figure.
> 
> Evolved from a prompt from hoppspindel on Tumbler: "Frostiron morning-after fluff." And I, being me, pretty much did something slightly different. Sort of. Uh, there's fluff? But also sex. Fluffy sex. _(gives hopeful look and guilty shrug)_

Loki rarely felt more decadent than at moments like these.

Tony was atop him, moving slowly in the gold light of early morning. Too early for the civilized to rise, but, then, they’d never been civilized, and odds were good they’d sleep again before leaving in search of food and the day’s discoveries and mayhem.

The boys were already gone to school, walked this day by their uncle. One of the few indulgences Loki and Tony permitted themselves, letting someone else ready the three Starksons for their nearby elementary school. Their daughter slept (too) late in a crib in the next room, cared for by stout nursemaids and a terrifyingly-visaged if kindhearted governess, all brought in from Asgard and weapons-trained. Their youngest wouldn’t hold her special status for long, so Loki hoped she was enjoying the privilege while it lasted.

Many more people lived in this home now, scattered among the floors like ants in a hill, but all working for the common good. Tony would roll his eyes at Loki’s smirk and remind him that “the common good” was the survival and thriving of humanity.

Loki’s smirk would only grow, because he knew: “the common good” was all about his--their--children.

He’d woken up a half-hour before to a soft touch over his skin, just grazing the shoulder he’d turned to Tony in his sleep, stroking over his upper arm. When Tony touched him this way--when Tony was still in bed after waking, not launching from the mattress with the passion of a carnivoristic rodent--it usually meant one thing.

And, yes, his assumption had borne out, as he was persuaded onto his back and taken into Tony’s mouth, all soft tongue and knowing hands between his legs, teasing his swelling flesh. He’d spilled, eventually, with a slight bowing of his spine and a sigh. After, he’d opened his arms as, wordless, Tony had crawled up into them and settled in.

They’d conceived their fifth child the evening before, so that wasn’t Tony’s objective as he’d slicked Loki, coaxed him open, and fallen into a sweet, slow-rhythmed rut between his legs. Tony was always particularly eager to take him in the weeks after they conceived; Loki suspected he had some desire to make his claim on Loki's form, that new life ... or he felt the need to convince Loki he was desired for more than procreation. 

Loki was convinced. He had shifted on the bed a little, pleased, and spread his arms in asymmetrical angles over his head, pressed into the pillows. Enjoyed the feel of Tony’s hair against his cheek and temple, Tony’s mouth at the skin behind his ear. The sound of his breathing as its pace increased. Loki wouldn’t get aroused again, not without trying, and this morning wasn’t one in which they were trying. Just Tony working his own magic tongue, hands, and cock, giving pleasure and taking it back.

Gentle and sweet.

Loki had had moments, yes, when “gentle and sweet” wasn’t what he wanted. When he still wanted to snatch his growing brood and leave this nest of strength-sapping comforts, these mornings of generous, slow lovemaking, even, because with them were bundled so many petty annoyances. Capitulating to his smug brother, negotiating battle strategy with the other dull-wits--and they were dull-witted, no matter how “nice” they were to Loki’s children and, by extension, Loki himself. Staunching his most chaotic, cruel impulses to maintain order.

To maintain peace.

It roiled every fiber of his being to transform himself into a vessel of peace. He mitigated the discomfort with petty pranks and pettier tantrums usually focused on Tony, though occasionally with collateral damage. Such as the time he’d riled Romanov to the point of breaking a chair--actually, it was a sofa. One of those large ones that bent around the room, impressively enough, and he’d underestimated her strength no longer. Or the time he’d brought every outdoor bi- or quadrupedal statue in the city to life to chase the screaming masses in a screech of metal and crack of broken pavement.

That had been enjoyable. Until Tony had shown up behind him on the patio, hands fisted on his hips and obviously shooting Loki his sternest expression, and even through the faceplate Loki could sense it.

Yes, that had been enjoyable, too, truthfully, as Tony lectured with his mouth while his eyes shone in amusement.

He hummed as Tony’s fuck got rougher--as Tony began the scale toward his own release. Pulled his thighs up further to ease the way, to show him anew that he was welcome. Got a series of kisses along his neck and jaw and cheekbone in reward.

This was working, for now, Loki thought. Their fifth child taking root in his belly, their other four healthy and safe and worshiping both their fathers and their strange collection of caregiver-warriors. Loki lifted his arms with a supreme effort in his lazy state and brought them to Tony’s shoulders, to his fine, strong back, now straining and hot with his efforts. Loki drew the fingers of one hand through the furrow of sweat accumulated over Tony’s spine, spread his hand down that curved lower back, comforting himself with the bumps and hollows of familiar scars.

“Tony,” he sighed, in their first words of the morning. “My own ... my love. _Please._ ” Arched once more to punctuate the words, which never failed to--

Loki smiled as he felt the immediate tension in the form above him, the single hard thrust and tightening embrace as Tony achieved his pleasure and pulsed his seed, once more, deep inside Loki’s body. Still derived great satisfaction from the sound of his name whispered in that broken voice. Those strong arms drawing him even closer as the man seemed himself to want to drive fully into Loki’s body, burrow and stay.

Lovely.

Yes, each day--perhaps each week, or month--Loki would reassess whether he wished to flee, and he might for the rest of their time together. Loki snorted at himself: He _probably would_ for the rest of their days with each other. For that was his nature, and he would not deny his nature. For anyone.

But when Tony finally pulled back, just a little, and gave Loki that sloppy, pleased smile ... when the dark eyes shared by their oldest son and precious daughter actually shone at him ...

Tony said only, “Good morning,” all fondness and good humor, another day of discoveries and mayhem beginning.

Well.

Perhaps Loki wouldn’t reassess _so very_ soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at <http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com>.
> 
> Thanks as always for reading!


End file.
